Pack Up The Babies, Kiss The Old Lady...

Halle, halleluja...

Day 2 of the Brother Love's Traveling Salvation Show took me to Arkadelphia, AR in general, and the Covenant Bookstore in particular.  I was to sign books from 10-noon.  It's helpful to know that Arkadelphia is the town where my wife and I went to college, and then years later, we moved back there and I assumed the duties of pastor for Second Baptist Church.  So, as you might guess, lotta memories in that town, a smattering of ghosts, and a skeleton or two.

But when the clock struck ten, the people came.  I'm guessing most days in the Covenant Bookstore aren't that busy.  Arkadelphia's a slow moving town, no need to rush much; that's one of the reasons I like it.  But that morning, things were hopping.  Even with the opening of deer season, thus taking out most of the men, and a Razorback football game that afternoon, business was brisk for the Covenant.

I got to see old friends: young couples we knew who now have kids; college students we be-friended who now have spouses and soon will have babies; men who passed offering plates on Sundays while the organist played; ladies who faithfully prayed for me when pastoring grew heavy; and one family who attended our church only a few months before we moved to Colorado - they stood there and cried and said "we miss you."

There was one old lady who happened to be in town that weekend and she made a point to stop by.  I say "old lady" with the utmost respect.  Her name is Jo and she was a member of our church and I was her pastor.  Jo was married to Elmer...he died a few years ago at 90 years young.  As a pastor, you're never really sure who loves you and who doesn't.  That's fine.  Life's like that some days, I guess.  But I never doubted Jo's love for me and my family...never.

Jo came in the bookstore that morning and bee-lined for me.  We hugged and she placed a shaky palm on my cheek and said "boy, you're pretty."  I still don't doubt Jo's love for me.  She then proceeded to speak so that all in the small store could hear:  "You know what I remember most about you, brother John?  You visited me in the hospital, when I had that heart surgery, and before you left, you kissed me on the forehead.  I'll never forget that."

Now you need to know that I didn't make a habit of kissing women in the hospital; it's just not the way I roll.  But I'll gladly confess that I did kiss Jo that day years ago, that day when she was scared and Elmer was scared and I was scared.  It was one of those thin days, when the distance between this life and the next felt close.  The kiss probably wasn't something I thought out carefully; I just did it.  Some of the best pastoral work happens that way - spontaneous, unguarded expressions of love for those in your care.  Jesus said when you visit those in the hospital, you're visiting him.  I'm gonna roll the dice here and say that when I kissed Jo's forehead, I kissed the forehead of Christ.  I believe that.  If you don't, well, I still do.

The Covenant sold out of my books that morning.  I'm grateful.  But those moments were much more than transactions.  They were remembrances, stirred memories of a time that's now gone, but a time that was rich and wide and deep and fun and horrible and smooth and rough and sorrowful and beautiful all in the same breath...days of sheep and the Good Shepherd and a young fool named John who got to waltz into the lives of glorious people for a season and marry their kids and bury their husbands and dedicate their babies and at least on one occasion, kiss the forehead of a scared, little old lady named Jo...

Halle, halleluja...